#so gode...

[knuckleduster]

this isnt true but it does feel true that all aesthetic posting at some point comes down to pro-anorexia blogging

[delswine]

FAKE DATING 𝄒 ⸝. P. SH ? — masterlist.

"it's funny that you're brave enough to call yourself ugly in front of me." – coming soon

the thing is, the classic kpop industry was once again putting idols out there to cover up its own problems. this time, the lucky (!) chosen ones were you and the all-time favorite, Park Sunghoon. so how would Park Sunghoon, whom God took extra time to create, react to your insecurities?

ᆢ ۢ pairing: idol!sunghoon x idol!insecure!f.reader

cast! -y/n's freak pack -sunghoon's fanclub

ᆢ ۢ genre: series, smut, fluff, crack, angst (if you squint), my contain smau episodes.

ᆢ ۢ warning: there's a lot. strangers to smth, really dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, insecurities, bickering, social media hate towards to reader, SUNGHOON IS A GOD FOR THEM, make out sessions, sexual innuendos and conversations, unprotected sex (nope, not for you babe), spitting, hair pulling, pet names, they're down bad, too much praising, oral (f&m rec), teasing, overstimulation, degrading, hickeys, fingering, slight choking, begging, manhandling... may contain more, lmk if i missed.

ᆢ ۢ notes: okay this one will be long and i'm not promising at fast updating. i'm planning something like 15-20 episodes but it could be more or less. gimme feedbacks in comments please!!

1 — #great news!

2 — well, the problem is-

3 — god is goding...

4 — "teddy bear."

5 — he's making me cry

... see you soon!

[sky-snz]

leisure skate benchwarmer (m) ⛸️

-

In the midst of the noise, there’s a soft, squelching sound that gently interrupts your thoughts. You’d only sat down to tighten your skates. But with that, you take your time pulling out the double knots. Over the volume of people talking on and off the ice, you can hear thick sniffles coming from someone sitting on the next bench over. Then, a loose cough. The air of the indoor rink is chilly - it seems to be exacerbating the symptoms of a cold.

As your fingers tug at your laces, you hear his friends come by on the ice. One hockey stops hard, creating a spray of ice shavings that fall close to the guy, just missing him by a hair. The other greets him cheerfully and bumps into the first friend, who curses and stops them both from falling. 

The poor benchwarmer lets out a wheezing, raspy chuckle, and coughs. It’s a wet, mucus-y sound. You can tell as he tries to stop, sniffling so thickly you can hear the vibration of air barely making it past a heavy wall of congestion. When he speaks, you feel your face flush a little - his voice is croaky and weak, sniffling between words as he gives tips to friend on stopping.

“You gotta- *snrfh!* You gotta lead idto it. *snrk !*”

The two on the ice start to practice stopping together, staying near the guy’s bench. One keeps calling out to him, showing him their form. He’s sniffling a lot now, and his scratchy words begin to slow as his breath shakes.

“Yeah… hh’Thaht’s… hHht’DD—?-unhh, *hsnrkk!* Sorry, I have to sdeeze…”

Pretending to look at the time on the large digital clock at one end of the area, you turn in his direction. His brow crumples as he muffles, or rather tries to muffle, a harsh-sounding sneeze into his hoodie sleeve, his shoulders shuddering with the force.

“HaAAH’SSCHIUE-!! *sngk!* Agh,” he lowers his arm and draws in a very soupy sniffle. 

“Bless you!” his friends call out.

As his hands fly to his pockets, you pull your gaze back down to your skates, not at all retaining what time the digital clock read. There’s a slight pause, and then a soft, shallow gasp. 

“hht-? …Ugh. Wait, there’s…”

“Bless you.”

“…adother ode… Shit, you jidxed it. *snrgk!*”

“Sorry.”

He lets out another half chuckle, half cough.  “It’s gode.”

As you’re doing up the bunny-eared knots, you hear more rasping laughs as his friends keep talking and attempting fancy little maneuvers, scraping and carving lines into the ice with their hockey skates. You tie an extra knot in each bow, then stand and pull on your gloves. 

As you step back onto the ice, you nearly wobble as- 

“hAAAD’SSCHIUHh-!!”

The next sneeze is less restrained, sounding desperate. They’re naturally loud, despite his efforts to muffle them into his sleeve. His thick sniffles begin to fade behind you as you skate away. As you glide around the arch at the far end of the rink, you toss an absent glance sideways - catching the poor benchwarmer in the middle of blowing his nose.

[confettiiz]

and if i told you i tweaked out reading this

My Highest Worldly Bliss: Chapter One

@electronix-arts @traumatizedartist @sock-man37 @confettiiz @poltergeist-bunn (just tagging everyone who expressed some interest in the teaser — thank you so much by the way, I really appreciate it!)

Hi everyone! I know the poll isn’t technically over yet, but most people thus far voted for me to upload chapter one to Tumblr today, and had I waited… well “today” would’ve been over lol.

Here’s chapter one of my very first fic! Haha i feel so self-indulgent. Feel free to let me know what you think and give some feedback. Excuse the formatting issues! I’m new to this 🥲 Read it under the cut 👇🏼👇🏼

Soft white eyes met a glimmering violet glow.

And he knew, in earnest then, that he would never be the same.

——

Dawn broke over the horizon of Copper-9. The nearby sound of drilling overpowered Khan’s senses as he blinked sleep out of his eyes. The day greeted him like any other, with a sly grin and slap to the face. A long day in the shafts lay ahead.

He was never fully content living a life of servitude. The human masters had made his kind to mine their exoplanets, so each day, they would dig their way further through the bedrock, dust and hot air hanging heavy around them until it clogged their sensors and slicked their hair back. Yet the drone always longed for more: a life of his own; freedom from the shackles that kept him bound to the colliery.

Such were the dreams of an ambitious man. Better yet, a foolish man. He knew not to articulate his fantasies of revolt, or he’d have caught his death for it by now.

But Khan was lucky, his bright mind and ingenuity had impressed the humans. During a shaft collapse a few months back, he’d taken the reigns and stabilized the structure long enough to evacuate all the workers. Having saved them a pretty penny, the humans rewarded him with a promotion to construction. Meaning no more physical labor.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” The worker drone grabbed his clipboard, scanning the text to find his assignment. He flipped the page to find it in big bold letters, coupled with a map.

Cabin Fever Labs

Ceiling collapse on basement floor, building integrity compromised.

“Huh,” he thought, “Never heard of that place.”

Grabbing the map, he set out on his mission.

——

“Stop it! Don’t touch me!”

“The more you squirm, the more it’ll hurt, 002.”

“Please, I’m sorry! I’ll be good, I swear!”

——

Khan didn’t expect the walk to take as long as it did. It felt like hours since he’d left the mines. His head was pounding, legs ached, and he contemplated giving up halfway.

“Screw the humans. They don’t deserve my help anyway.” He huffed, feeling the hot sun burn down on him.

Yet, against his better judgment, Khan persisted, wading through waist-high vegetation as he finally stumbled upon the Cabin Fever complex. It was at least ten stories high. Blacked-out windows lined the building in a grid-like pattern, and a large, metal door towered before the drone. It was locked, so he had no choice but to ring the bell.

A buzzer rang not long after. “State your name and the purpose of your visit,” came an annoyed voice on the other end.

“Uh, hello? I’m Khan. I-I’m here on behalf of JCJenson… to survey the ceiling collapse? I’m the Head of Construction at the copper mines.”

“Come in.” Another beep and Khan entered.

——

“Subject 002’s test results have been… alarming, to say the least.”

“What do you suppose we do?”

Purple eyes blinked open, and a blurry haze of white fluorescent light overwhelmed them. It took 002 a moment to realize where she was: the torture chamber, strapped to the patient bed. Everything hurt, and for a moment she cursed death for being too elusive a mercy for her. In the distance, she heard the voices of the Doctors.

Ever since that symbol had first plagued her processor they’d taken every opportunity to subject her to the latest “treatments”. Psychological torture, physical beatings, and solitary confinement had become staples of her daily routine.

“I think we ought to separate her and 048. It could be that two infected drones interacting is worsening the problem.”

This immediately set off alarms in 002’s mind. They couldn’t take 048 from her, she was the only good thing about this hellhole!

“I’ll inform Dr. Piers of the change. I’m sure we can accommodate 002 in 017’s room.”

Anger surged through her body. The mere thought of the Doctors taking the last good thing in her life away from her made 002 seethe. A thousand possibilities soared through her mind, until the symbol from her visions appeared in her hand once again.

“I said let me go!” A flash of violet light cut through the leather straps holding her down, and 002 fought back tears as she burst through the torture chamber door and down the hall.

——

Khan made his way to the basement of the labs, looking for the hall with the collapsed ceiling.

“There you are.” He whispered once he finally found his assignment. It was… a disturbing site to say the least. The ceiling tiles had been shattered beyond recognition, seemingly by force, and the wall nearby had been splattered with… oil? It sent a chill up his chassis.

He began surveying the damage when a female voice picked up behind him.

“So… they finally let someone see what goes on down here, huh? You some fresh meat or sumthin’?”

Khan was startled, jumping a bit before turning around, and then his shock turned to awe as he laid eyes on the most beautiful drone he’d ever seen. Her clothes were plain: a sleeveless grey dress, ID tag, gloves, and no shoes. Yet there was an undeniable fervor in her eyes, which were the most brilliant shade of purple-pink.

“Helloooo?” she asked, “Ya still in there or?” She tapped her fingers on his faceplate, effectively snapping him out of his trance.

“Uh— hi miss?” He tried to form a full sentence but was too taken aback, a vibrant white blush forming on his cheeks.

The woman played with the ends of her lavender hair and stifled a giggle, “I’ve never had a guy get flustered over me before. You sure you don’t belong down here with the rest of us defects?”

Embarrassed, Khan tried to reassert himself, “Ma’am, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m the Head of Construction, and I’m here to survey the ceiling collapse. Do you need help with something?”

——

Now that ticked 002 off. She couldn’t believe it! This… cute weird, weird man with a hard hat and too much audacity had the nerve to waltz into her home and ask her if she needed his help!

“Okay, nuance alert ‘ma’am,’” she said mockingly, “You’re in my neck of the woods right now! So how about we switch up the roles and ask if you need my help, hmm?” And to really get her point across, 002 held up three fingers, and the symbol appeared once more. In an instant, all the damage had been undone.

——

“Oh, uh. What was that?” It was a stupid question, but the construction worker couldn’t think of any other way to phrase it.

He watched as a deep, violet-pink blush covered the woman’s face. She crossed her arms and huffed, stepping backward “It’s uhm… it’s nothing. Just a virus I have,” Then her voice got quiet, “Bet it freaks you out, huh? Just like everyone else.”

Khan was about to say something to the contrary when heavy footsteps began racing down the hall. Humans. He watched as the purple lady’s eyes went hollow and she stepped back.

“I-I need to go,” she stammered, “I’m not even supposed to be talking to you.”

“Wait!” He shouted back, but it was too late. He caught a final glimpse of her light as the beautiful violet woman turned a corner and disappeared.

“I didn’t even get your name…”

[idunnomannn]

Brother's at Odds

- In which Tim confronts Dick about his past actions. It goes about as well as you'd think.

Yet another rough draft fic that I never finished and left to rot in my docs. Enjoy.

══════════════════════

Somewhere between Dick's attempts to reassure Tim and Tim's clear declaration that he wanted nothing to do with him outside of their vigilante duties, the audacity of the older man infuriated him. How could Dick act as if the last time Tim up and left was somehow not his fault?

“Tim, come on,” Dick urged, his voice a mix of desperation and frustration, but Tim turned away, determined to walk off and leave the conversation behind him. He felt the tension coiling tighter in his chest with every step he took. Just as he thought he could escape, Dick's words cut through the air, landing with a heavy thud.

“Don’t do this, don’t walk out on us again; we're a team. Let me help—”

Tim snapped, spinning around to face him, fury igniting his expression. “Help?” he scoffs. “Is that what you're calling it now?” The hurt reflected in Dick's expression is lost on Tim even as he continues his verbal lashing. “You think you can ‘swoop in’ like nothing ever happened? That you can play your role as ‘big brother’ whenever it's convenient for you?” The raw emotion in his voice echoed in the space between them as even now, Tim is still trying to make sense of his brother's thought process and the weight of Dick's misplaced intentions until eventually he realizes that not even that matters now. Nothing will save what's left of this broken family.

The anger boiling inside him threatened to overflow, fueled by mixed memories of betrayal and disappointments of a time long since past. He lashed out, his voice trembling bitterly as he confronted the man he had once seen as an older brother.

Not anymore.

Dick had ruined that prospect many times over, and stupidly Tim forgave him each time because that's what family is supposed to do, right?

Wrong.

He'd stupidly let him in and allowed himself to get hurt the moment he'd been shoved to the side like a stranger—a mere passerby on the street rather than someone of any significance to anyone else.

The bridge between them wasn’t just broken; it was a smoldering wreck, engulfed in flames, its remnants reduced to ash and char.

“You turned your back on me, not the other way around!” He shouted, his voice echoing heavily in the silence, one hand pressed flat against his chest to emphasize his being in this world, lest the other be so quick to forget. “If you're so hellbent on getting my attention, well, now you’ve got it. So what is it? What else could you possibly want from me?” Incredulity is the only thing fueling him at this point, with Tim continuing to gode Dick for some kind of response, a chance to finally speak his mind.

“Go on. I'm listening.” Tim waits now, leaning forward and clasping his hands with his elbows pressed against a work desk. He actually pauses too, and when Dick does nothing but gape at him like a fish out of water, Tim is laying into him once again, signature Janet Drake scowl etched into his features like it's just an everyday expression. “Oh, don't clam up now; you seemed so eager to talk, so let's talk.”

Again, he was met with silence, but this time it felt suffocating—so thick that even the bats in the cave dared not to chirp. Tim let out a laugh, a sharp, hollow sound that echoed off the stone walls. ‘Really,’ he thought, ‘isn’t this just so funny?’

But the laughter dropped away almost immediately, replaced by a bitter chill that settled in his chest. Pushing himself off the desk, he moved closer to Dick, determination fueling his steps. “Here’s what I think,” he said, leaning in just enough to ensure the older man could hear him clearly, the tension between them palpable. “I think you’re a hypocrite.”

He watched Dick’s expression shift slightly, but he pressed on. “I think that despite your constant preaching about how we all need to get along and be this big happy family that you seem to want so badly—for all of that? You don’t actually care.” Tim’s words hang in the air, a simple shrug, but they don't cease. “Why would you?”

“You’re selfish, Dick.”

The words were laden with accusation as Tim’s voice fluctuated throughout the cave. “All you do is take and take, and when there’s even the slightest pushback, you fall into this state of tunnel vision. You don’t consider anyone else’s feelings; you just do what you think is right, even when it’s bound to hurt someone else. At least you get your way, right?”

His tone dripped with scorn, the words spilling out like a torrent of pent-up resentment while giving Dick no room for denial. The air crackled with tension as he stood there, waiting for Dick’s response. When all he received was a put-off gaze, Tim pressed onward. It was his turn to speak now, and by God was he going to use it.

“I needed you, you know? I needed you, and you weren't there.”

“Tim,” comes his brother's attempt at protest, only for the younger to cut him off with a scowl.

“I came to you for help…and you know what I got in return? You tossing me aside after threatening to send me away to the loony bin. So tell me, where did that care for my well-being start exactly?” Each reflection on his past actions felt like a dagger aimed straight at the heart for Dick. A gnawing feeling that there would be no coming back from this. Not this time.

“Where the hell was your care when you looked me dead in the eyes and told me he—” Tim’s finger jabbed toward his supposed little brother, Damian, who stood a few feet back, deliberately avoiding eye contact and maybe even the entirety of the confrontation since it had all come to a head long after coming back from a late patrol.

“Needed you more because he was just a kid hurting for guidance? I’m seventeen, Dick, seventeen! The only guidance I had was a mentor I dragged back from the so-called dead, but you brushed that off like it was so unimportant. Like you couldn't care less.”

His voice crescendoed, his face screwed up with the effort of his outburst, echoing in the cave’s oppressive silence. “I’m just a kid too!” The weight of his words hang heavy in the air, demanding recognition and understanding.

“I am—!” he yelled again, his voice cracking now due to all the mounting distress he'd only let himself feel until now. “So where’s your excuse now? After everything, you want to sit here and bullshit your way back into my life like you didn’t do a goddamn thing? Like you're entitled to my time?”

Tim scoffed, incredulous. It was astonishing how Dick had managed to stay silent long enough for him to vent his frustrations. When Tim turned his gaze to his brother, he was met with a look of saddened resignation. But that remorse felt empty; there was no real action or effort to back it up. The sight only ignited Tim’s irritation with his older brother further, but instead of lashing out again, his fury seemed to deflate, leaving behind a hollow ache.

His expression shifted to something so lifeless that it was almost haunting. Gone was the fire of his anger, replaced by a profound exhaustion that seeped into his bones. He felt utterly spent, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

“I’m so tired I can’t even look at you,” he said even as exhaustion pulled like shackles and chains, weighing him down as obvious as the droop in his shoulders. “Just… stay away from me. You weren't worried those three months I was missing—don’t start trying to concern yourself now after everything is already over.” It's the kind of finality that offers no room for protest, and Dick makes no attempt to even as he observes how his little brother just walks away from him to sit at the bat computer without another word.

══════════════════════

[deareverlasting]

Klance Lovebug Au

ive officially started working on some of the minor world building for the origins of my lovebug 🥳 and for wip wednesday (dont look at the date.) i wanna share with you guys what ive got so far below the cut‼️

[Planet Name] - Graidh Chridh

A peaceful planet. No war resides here, for the planet is a living being, much like the Balmera. It lets those inside who hold only the purest of intentions.

[Lovebug Residence] - The Veil

A dark forest full of fog that plays tricks on your mind in order to lure you into a bunch/field of its flowers: the Psychelayum. The hallucinations will seek to look inside your mind, creating their hallucinations based on the limited knowledge it has of the target. It will use these hallucinations in order to gode a person to breathe in its spores or ingest the plant.

[Lovebug Scientific Name] - Erosful Pragmatum

Tiny, color changing, heart-shaped bugs that live in the flowers inside the veil. They act as a hive mind, seeking to infect anyone in its vicinity. Without the Erosful Pragmatum, the Psychelayum flowers are mostly harmless. These bugs are what infect the flowers, forcing said flowers to grow spores and release the bugs toxins.

[Symptoms/Effects]

Once bitten, the hivemind infiltrates your very mind, sifting and searching through your memories. You may not feel the symptoms for a while, but once you come in contact with the person the hivemind deems to have the most effect on your natural chemicals, dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, and more specifically, oxytocin, it will cause an imbalance in your brain's chemicals and hormones. Overriding any ‘walls’ and replacing them with an innate need to act on the need to drive the previously stated chemicals just high enough to successfully dish out the effects of the lovebug.

If not cured/if the infected attempts to protest against the symptoms, the hivemind is depleted after feeding off on the little oxytocin left. The infected can and will experience a chemical imbalance as the hivemind attempts to feed on your brain's other chemicals. Effects include: depression, exhaustion, anger, fear, an array of different emotions at once. In some of the worst cases, the infected will experience acts of violence towards themselves in their despair. Often leading the infected to take their own life.

ANDDD thats about it! if anyone has any ideas or would like to just talk about it id love to hear your thoughts 🙇🏽‍♀️

[bks-blogs]

#101DalmatianStreet #Save101DalmatianStreet #Disney #DisneyPlus #101Dalmatians #BigHero6

I can't believe no one's ever thought of making 101DS crossover artwork of one of my favorite Disney characters! So, I might as well take matters to my own paws!🖌️🎨

Here it is, my dedicated pups! A crossover art-piece of Dolly and her spotted back of siblings interacting with #Baymax from Disney's Big Hero 6!💪🦸6️⃣

A couple years back, I've been wondering what it would be like if the newest generation of the Dalmatian family had their very own, real-life robotic healthcare companion take care of them.🤖❤️‍🩹🧑‍⚕️

Dylan would tutor him about pup-care, Dolly would gode him into trying sports and using him as a pillow for her stunts… And maybe teach him how to the iconic Ba-la-la-la-la fist bump! I mean, it's what makes him Baymax!🤜🤛

Speaking of which… I'm already drafting a fanfic story for a 101DS x Baymax crossover fanfic that I want to at least get done by May!✏️📖

(I'm still drafting on the 101DS + Pikmin crossover story as we speak. I've been out of the writing game for a while, so I'm working to get back into the habit of it)

I hope the lovely folks who made Disney's Big Hero 6 (Even Roy Conli) and Man of Action see this!😊

[raccontidialiantis]

Leccami dappertutto

Adoro essere leccata a lungo ovunque; desiderata ma assolutamente sottomessa. Semplicemente: amo obbedire all’amore e all’amante che mi coglie. Ti faccio tutto quello che mi ordini. Se solo intuisco che un uomo che mi piace mi vuole, gli faccio capire subito e senza equivoci che ci sto e di sicuro finiamo a letto entro un’ora. Lo so: sono una vera e propria troia. Ma sono una troia fondamentalmente stupida: non mi faccio neppure pagare! 

Mi porti via con una conversazione intelligente, un gelato, un giro in macchina, un capo di lingerie neanche troppo costoso o un pezzo di bigiotteria economica. Sono una scema. Ma sono molto generosa. Amo e ho un bisogno fisico di giocare con la lingua. E di sentirne spesso una che mi percorra, che mi dia i brividi della passione. Ho una necessità quasi biologica di leccare un uomo o una donna, di inghiottire i suoi umori e sentire il suo corpo che gode, che viene grazie a me. E inghiottire ciò che produrrà per la mia gola. Il gusto è normalmente un po' sottovalutato, invece anch’esso è gran parte del sesso. 

Inghiotto senza sprecare una goccia. Mio marito non sospetta nulla: lui è davvero un angelo. Mi mantiene come una principessa e mi porta sul palmo della sua mano. Non meriterebbe certo una puttana come me, al suo fianco. Non gli ho neppure dato dei figli, né ho alcuna intenzione di farlo in futuro. Spesso lui mi guarda a lungo, mi scruta, mi osserva e infine mi dice che potrei avere qualsiasi uomo o qualsiasi donna, tanto sono bella ai suoi occhi. Che gli brillano d’amore e gratitudine, mentre lo dice. Io abbasso il viso e arrossisco. Lui pensa che io sia una donna timida e pura. Quanto mi adora. 

Fondamentalmente è un uomo molto buono: è solo contento che l’abbia sposato e che abbia quindi scelto volontariamente di essergli fedele, di rispettare il sacro vincolo matrimoniale. Poveretto: sapesse! Però lo tratto bene e non gli faccio mancare dei bei pranzetti e una casa accogliente e pulita. Lui ha oltre venti anni più di me e l’ho sposato in fretta e furia, per uscire da casa il prima possibile. 

Mamma m’ha sempre odiata: lei non è riuscita a tenersi papà e io gliene ho sempre fatto una colpa. Ogni giorno. Eppure in qualche modo ha saputo accalappiare il suo secondo marito: un dottore. Anche lui come mio marito è una persona generosa e dalle mille risorse. E con un bel fisico. Da appena sposati, io - neppure quattordicenne - ho iniziato a stuzzicarlo. Ma lui, da uomo saggio e timorato di Dio, ha sempre accuratamente evitato e m’ha ogni volta rimproverato bonariamente. Scuotendo la testa, davanti alla mia esuberanza adolescenziale. 

Però era ed è pur sempre un uomo sano. Con tutti gli ormoni e i desideri al loro posto. Man mano che andavamo avanti, mamma lo trascurava sempre di più. Io invece sbocciavo rigogliosa e gli ero sempre meno indifferente. Me ne accorgevo da tanti piccoli particolari. Dal fatto che se prima mi sfuggiva, da un certo punto in poi ha iniziato invece a volermi stare intorno, a scherzare con me. Di continuo. Una mattina, dopo l’ennesimo litigio con mamma, ho deciso che l’avrei resa cornuta. 

Se lo meritava e io mi sentivo potente, sessualmente irresistibile. Ho finto di prepararmi e poi di uscire per andare a scuola. Ma quando lei è uscita a sua volta per andare a lavorare nell’azienda dove in quel periodo prestava opera come consulente informatica, sono tornata a casa. Il mio patrigno era al piano di sotto, nel suo studio medico a visitare pazienti. E io di sopra a preparare la trappola.

A ora di pranzo mi ha trovata a casa; era sorpreso, ma piacevolmente. Ed era anche molto imbarazzato, ma comunque si trovava oggettivamente in una situazione da sogno per qualsiasi uomo: infatti gli ho fatto trovare due fili di spaghetti, un po’ di insalata e dei pezzetti di speck e formaggio. Un pranzo leggero, che gli ho servito truccata perfettamente e profumata. Indossando ciabattine con la zeppa, una sottoveste a mezza coscia velata, leggerissima. Completamente trasparente e... tutta aperta sul davanti! 

Ovviamente, sotto ero completamente nuda! A diciassette anni le mie mammelle erano di marmo e il culo una “O” di Giotto. La fica poi era completamente depilata. Muovendo strategicamente le gambe e i fianchi, le mie grandi labbra si aprivano spesso, davanti a lui. Non parlava. Era ipnotizzato. Io ero talmente eccitata che oltre al profumo, egli ogni tanto sicuramente sentiva un refolo del mio odore inguinale intimo e del sudore delle mie ascelle. Una dolcissima tortura, irresistibile per chiunque.. 

Stava diventando pazzo, lo potevo vedere chiaramente. Mangiava, masticava ma non poteva togliermi gli occhi di dosso. Non riusciva proprio a dirmi di andare a rivestirmi. Finito che lui ebbe di bere un robusto bicchiere di vino rosso, sono andata a sedermi in grembo a lui. Gli ho gettato le braccia al collo e facendo l’espressione più bambinesca e innocente possibile gli ho stampato dei baci sulle guance. Gli sorridevo, l’accarezzavo, gli prendevo le mani: me le mettevo una tra le cosce leggermene allargate e l’altra sotto le natiche semiaperte! 

Non poté fare a meno di iniziare a frugarmi la passera e l’ano. Non avrebbe resistito un santo. Era arrapato da impazzire: ogni tanto gli toccavo la patta e la cosa mi era chiarissima. D’un tratto si risolse: mi prese in braccio e mi mise sul divano in sala. Però in sostanza si limitò a leccarmi da morire ovunque. Partì col collo: mi divorava e mi ricopriva di saliva. Poi passò al seno e ci lavorò a lungo. Mi succhiò i capezzoli godendo come un maiale, il dottore.

Infine, si decise al passo più importante: leccarmi la passera e l’ano. Mi fece venire più volte. Gli ricoprii tutta la testa del mio prezioso miele. Scherzando scherzando, pian piano gli sbottonai i calzoni e glielo presi in bocca. Però dopo tre o quattro pompate lui si ritrasse e disse: “No, tesoro mio.... non possiamo. Basta, per favore. Mi farai morire.” 

S’erano fatte le tre e mezza del pomeriggio, per cui si lavò e tornò nello studio. La serata e i due giorni successivi passarono come se nulla fosse successo. Solo occhiate più o meno esplicite e sorrisi imbarazzati. Ma la terza notte però alle due, mentre mamma ronfava stanca morta, mi si infilò dentro al letto, col profilattico già calzato. Mi mise una mano sulla bocca, mi pregò di fare silenzio e mi disse che non ce la faceva più. M’allargò le cosce e mi scopò. Dieci minuti, non di più. Io lo assecondai e godetti. 

Ma mi sforzai di restare impassibile e di non gemere. Non dissi nulla. Venne e subito dopo se ne scappò, come un ladro. Al mattino, imbarazzatissimo, mi chiese scusa: che non avrebbe dovuto, mi pregava di dimenticare, non si può proprio fare etc. Col kaiser: ce l’avevo in pugno, ormai. Però non dovetti neppure faticare: da subito iniziò a volermi scopare ogni volta che avevamo un’ora di tempo libero insieme e che mamma non c’era. 

Purtroppo, noi donne abbiamo antenne sensibilissime e mia madre quindi scoprì quasi subito la cosa. Avrebbe voluto uccidermi, o come alternativa allontanarmi per sempre “per farmi fare in strada la puttana che ero” disse. Per non far scoppiare uno scandalo però, sopportò tutto per un breve periodo. Anche perché il mio patrigno era molto preoccupato, mortificato e si mise di impegno a lavorare per me. 

Egli riuscì in due mesi soltanto a trovarmi un marito: riuscì a convincere questo suo buon amico d’infanzia ancora scapolo, che accettò subito di sposarmi: non mi potevo opporre. Né lo avrei voluto. Qualsiasi cosa, pur di andarmene. Al futuro sposo non sembrava neppure vero! Avevo meno di diciotto anni e lui oltre quaranta. Non era e non è certo un’aquila; né ha un fisico da fotomodello. Però è un brav’uomo. In sostanza, una buona sistemazione, per me. 

Meglio della strada su cui mia madre m’avrebbe buttato immediatamente, dopo avermi scoperta rientrando prima del previsto nel suo letto matrimoniale, col suo uomo ben piantato nel mio culo mentre io gli gridavo: “dai, fottimi. Vieni, sborra, rendiamo super cornuta mamma. Muovitiiii...” E allora eccomi qui. Mi piace troppo fare sesso. Ultimamente sono anche costretta a usare una crema lenitiva e rinfrescante per le parti intime, visto che faccio sesso due o anche più volte al giorno.

Posso farlo senza problemi: è il vantaggio di vivere in una grande città e di saper giostrare con internet. Due o più volte al giorno non contando le esigenze di mio marito. Abbastanza diradate durante il mese, invero. E soprattutto io succhio, lecco, ingoio avidissima e raggiungo l’estasi massima quando un uomo mi sborra in gola. Mi faccio succhiare, leccare e lascio anche che la saliva e gli odori dei miei amanti sul mio corpo eccitino il mio coniuge a letto: lui mi dice che ama il fatto che io abbia un odore così mutevole. Non capisce come questo sia possibile. Mi dice che vengo da un altro pianeta, ma si eccita. E mi scopa. Poi finalmente posso farmi una bella doccia.

RDA

[romanreignsstan]

Roman Reigns is just so. damn. good. Everything he touches turns to gold. He had to come back and lift up Y'ALLS CHAMPION, and now he's producing this cinematic experience JUST through his facial expressions!? I mean, you felt every word that Roman said and it made you feel the emotions he was feeling too. He can tell a whole story with just face, you can tell what he's thinking and how he's feeling without him saying a damn word. He's Thee Tribal Chief, Thee Needle Mover, Thee Guy, Gode Mode, the list goes on. He's that bitch in anything, and everything.

[ideeperscrittori]

CONTRO LA TEOCRAZIA IRANIANA

Sono pauroso. Sono pigro. Lo dico subito, perché se c'è una cosa che odio è l'autonarrazione eroica. Ma nel mio modo imperfetto, con tutte le mie fragilità, con le mie paure, con le mie debolezze, sono contro.

Sono sempre stato di sinistra e dal 31 dicembre 2019 (sì, mi sono segnato la data), sono anarchico.

Io sono contro in un modo singolare. Perché mi dicono che essere contro certe cose è sbagliato.

Vi faccio un esempio. Sono contro la teocrazia iraniana. Ecco, a quanto pare non va bene. Faccio male. Faccio il gioco di qualcuno. Lo sto leggendo dappertutto.

Non conta il fatto che io sia ferocemente critico nei contronti degli Stati Uniti, della Nato, dell'Unione Europea, dell'imperialismo occidentale, dello sterminio compiuto dall'esercito israeliano a GAZA, del colonialismo in Cisgiordania. Se critico la teocrazia iraniana, per incantesimo mi trasformo in un alleato della CIA e in un esportatore di democrazia. E ovviamente divento un islamofobo.

E allora vorrei chiarire un concetto, a costo di essere antipatico.

Io, proprio perché libertario, non intendo la rivoluzione sociale come imposizione delle mie idee. Quindi sgombriamo il campo da concetti come "esportazione della democrazia".

La tua comunità segue determinate regole religiose considerate sacre? Non ho nulla in contrario. Nulla. E quando visito un tempio mi comporto con educazione. Sono ateo e anticlericale, ma rispetto la spiritualità delle altre persone.

Ma allora in che senso sono contro la teocrazia iraniana? Voglio imporre il modello occidentale? No. Ve l'ho detto, io non impongo niente a nessuno.

Di sicuro non chiederò mai alle donne musulmane di rispettare canoni di vestiario occidentali per adeguarsi a una certa visione del mondo. Lo fanno i leghisti. Lo fanno i suprematisti occidentali. Io non lo farò mai.

Allo stesso modo, per me la gente in Italia può rispettare tutte le regole imposte dal cristianesimo. Io non scelgo al posto degli altri. Io non dico agli altri come vivere.

Ma quando una donna, nei paesi musulmani e in occidente, lotta per rivendicare il suo diritto all'autodeterminazione e cerca di liberarsi dai vincoli imposti della religione (a cominciare da quella cristiana), io sono dalla sua parte. E nel mio piccolo appoggio la sua lotta contro l'istituzione, la teocrazia o la chiesa che vuole dirle come vivere.

Torniamo alla teocrazia iraniana. So per certo che gode di grande consenso. Supponiamo pure che questo consenso sia pari alla stra-grande maggioranza della popolazione. Ma c'è una minoranza oppressa che si ribella. E la sua ribellione viene schiacciata con una repressione spaventosa.

Sostengo la lotta delle minoranze oppresse in Italia, negli USA, in Iran, in qualsiasi posto nel mondo.

E aggiungo un'ultima considerazione: il vero razzismo mi sembra quello delle persone che di fronte alle ribellioni delle donne iraniane pensano sempre che ci sia dietro l'occidente. Perché ci stanno dicendo che le donne iraniane non sono capaci di pensare con la loro testa. Ci stanno dicendo che le donne iraniane non posseggono il concetto di ribellione contro il potere, a differenza di noi occidentali. Ci stanno dicendo che la storia, nel bene e nel male, è fatta solo dall'occidente.

È così difficile essere contro tutte le ingiustizie, senza tollerarne alcune perché hanno "la bandiera giusta"? [L'Ideota]

[maimoncat]

Qualche tempo fa ho parlato con @adarkrainbow di figure natalizie e siamo arrivati a parlare di Santa Lucia col suo asinello. E mi sono ricordato di come la santa, nelle processioni dove porta i doni ai bambini, è spesso velata per rappresentare la sua assenza di occhi. E dato che questi due non vogliono uscirmi dalla testa, e anche Leshy si copre gli occhi strappati, mi sono immaginato questo. È da qui che è uscita l’intera serie di disegni natalizi, dalla Santa Leshia coll’asinello Somy (che qui si gode una bella ciotola di erba).

Some time ago I was talking to @adarkrainbow about christmas figures, and we came to Saint Lucy and her donkey. And it got me thinking about how the saint is usually veiled when she comes to bring the children presents. And since these two simply will not leave my head, I was reminded that Leshy also covers his gouged out eyes, and drew this. So it’s here that this whole "happy Lambdays" series came from, from Saint Lushy and Somy the donkey (who’s enjoying some grassy gruel).

Vor einiger Zeit hab ich mit @adarkrainbow über verschiedene Weihnachtsfiguren gesprochen und da sind wir zur Heiligen Luzia mit ihrem Eselchen gekommen. Und da viel mir ein, dass die Heilige beim Geschenkeverteilen ganz oft ihr Gesicht verschleiert hat, um ihre Augenlosigkeit darzustellen. Und da mir auch die beiden hier nicht aus dem Kopf wollen, musste ich daran denken, wie auch Leshy seine ausgerissenen Augen bedeckt und da hab ich das hier gemalt. So ist die ganze weihnachtliche "Lammtag" Reihe entstanden, von der Heiligen Leschya mit ihrem Eselein Somy (das gerade seine Scüssel Gras futtert)

Alt without text:

[westiec]

Ooh tag game thank you @nemainofthewater !

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your latest fanfics (or up to if you have less!) & tag 10 people.

Tagging: @livingmeatloaf @shadaras @theindianghost @lunetta-suzie-jewel @sassybluee @otpcutie @dangerouscommiesubversive @corduroyserpent @wolffyluna @ahhhnorealnamesallowed

1. gode-ceinture (Inside Out 2)

"… and of course, if you don't like it, we don't have to use it," Anxiety says, words coming faster the more she talks. "I just thought it would be fun— not that what we normally do isn't fun, you know I think it's fun, this is just—"

2. Lift, Thrust, Drag (MCU)

They're barely back in the safe house before Bucky's on him, metal hand on Sam's waist and the other around his bicep, sliding up under the cuff of his shirtsleeve. Sam's up against the wall as fast as he can blink, pressed flat against the dingy paint with Bucky close behind, grinding into his ass with a moan that gusts hot across the back of Sam's neck.

3. Around the Horn (Original Work)

Jaxon shuddered as he smacked into the catcher's mitt for the third strike. This was it, the moment he'd been waiting for since he woke up in his hotel room as a Rawlings MLB regulation baseball — and really for his whole life.

4. red of tooth and claw [a remix] (SVSSS)

Luo Binghe leaves the bite mark unhealed.

5. Replete (MDZS)

Wei Ying tries not to get excited as the nice man — Jiang shushu — tells him all about his home in Lotus Pier. It sounds too good to be true: a beautiful house floating on a lake, training to become a cultivator like A-Niang and A-Die, and best of all, all the food he can eat.

6. Euphoric (MDZS)

Jiang Cheng studies the intricate lines of cinnabar painted on the polished wood floor with excitement, apprehension, and a lifetime of yearning roiling in her stomach. "And you're sure this will work? It's not going to turn me into some horrible beast or make all my hair fall out or anything like that?"

7. Down a Different Path (The Untamed)

It would be very generous to call what Qin Su had right now a plan. A plan, to Qin Su, implied a logical series of steps that would, if followed, lead to a specific desired outcome. What Qin Su had right now would be more accurately described as a hairpin and a very bad idea.

8. Lan Wangji, Wei Wuxian, and the Comically Large Dildo (MDZS)

A night market, somewhat by definition, typically opened later than Lan Wangji preferred to be anywhere but in bed with his husband, but it was worth it for the delight on Wei Wuxian's face as he darted from stall to stall, oohing and ahhing over the various goods for sale.

9. Efficacious Methods of Relaxation (The Untamed/MDZS)

There really was no good reason, in Lan Qiren's private opinion, that everyone agreed to discussion conferences in Baling as often as they did.

10. written in the scars on our hearts (MDZS)

The last thing Jin Zixuan remembers is the shock of a fist collapsing her rib cage and the desperate thought that this couldn't be happening, not with how excited a-Li had been.

Finally, one based on revealed stuff so I can actually play. 😅 Do feel free to steal and start your own tag chain if you want!

[cleverwordsandotherstuffilike]

A pilot and two girls survived on the wing of a plane for about 12 hours after it crashed and was partially submerged in an icy Alaska lake, then were rescued after being spotted by a good Samaritan.

Terry Godes said he saw a Facebook post Sunday night calling for people to help search for the missing plane, which did not have a locator beacon. On Monday morning about a dozen pilots including Godes headed out to scour the rugged terrain. Godes headed toward Tustumena Lake near the toe of a glacier and spotted what he thought was wreckage.

"I wasn't sure if we would find them, especially because there was a cloud layer over quite a bit of the mountains, so they could have very easily been in those clouds that we couldn't get to," Eicher said. But finding the family alive within an hour of starting the search "was very good news."

Godes said many miracles were at play, from the plane not sinking, to the survivors being able to stay atop the wing, to them surviving nighttime temperatures dipping into the 20s (subzero Celsius).

"They spent a long, cold, dark, wet night out on top of a wing of an airplane that they weren't planning on," Godes said.

The Associated Press

[pimosworld]

Tap out

Pairing -Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Summary-You can’t win bets when it comes to these boys.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW,oral f receiving, fingering, teasing, sharing, implied smut, established relationship

WK-660

A/N- I don’t know what brought this on, these boys have a chokehold on me so enjoy ( don’t look at me)

Not beta read

[Main Masterlist]

“Just say the word cariño and we can stop.” You whine inaudibly and he just laughs. His smug face between your legs drips with your slick. 

  You weakly pull on the restraints as you brush your sweat soaked head against your arm. You get a brief glimpse of your husband seated in the chair across the room. He’s watching Santi with rapt attention, those deep brown eyes filled with desire. 

  “He can’t help you baby.” You nearly crush his head with your thighs as he circles your clit with his tongue. Your body is overwrought as you approach your fourth or fifth orgasm. “Unless you say the magic word.” 

  “Fuck you Garcia.” You pant out, unable to hide the quiver in your voice. 

  He delivers a quick slap to your ass, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “You kiss your husband with that mouth?” 

  Frankie smirks at that. You certainly can do a lot with that mouth. He adjusts himself in the chair at the thought of you sucking his cock while Santi devours you. You gagging on his length while he tells you what a good girl you’re being. 

  That wasn’t part of the bet though.

  Now that he thinks of it, you never did come to terms with the prize. Unbeknownst to you Santiago is getting his prize right now. He gets to watch Frankie squirm while you fight with every fiber of your being to not tap out. Frankie knew the both of you always had this push and pull. Neither of you wanting to back down from a challenge. 

  He knew you had inadvertently set yourself up for this when you casually mentioned at the bar that no one could make you come as many times as he did. He couldn’t help the way his chest puffed out with pride as Santi’s eyes bored into you. A mixture of agitation and hunger fueling his animalistic tendencies. 

  You can’t deny that you’ve thought about this a thousand times. The lingering looks, the way his hugs last longer than the other boys, his constant teasing and trying to gode you on at every step. Santiago wasn’t scared of Frankie but he would never step over that line without permission. The man knew how to tote a line. 

  You would’ve normally seen this set up coming from a mile away. With the alcohol running through your veins, Frankie’s hand on your thigh and Santi eye fucking you across the table…you never stood a chance. 

  He dips his fingers into your pussy as his thumb rubs dangerously on your clit. You moan into your arm as you try to move away, the pleasure bordering on pain as you try not to give him what he so desperately wants. 

  “Dámelo cariño, sé que quieres.” His mouth can do unspeakable things to you in more than one way. 

  Your body betrays you at every step as you gush down his hand. You’re shaking your head saying no more but even you know those aren’t the words he wants to hear. 

  “Santi please.” He hums under his breath as he hovers over you, his lips meet yours and you can taste yourself on his tongue with a hint of him. His tousled salt and pepper curls drip sweat next to your pillow. 

  “Please what baby?” Santi teases as you hear the distinct sound of a belt clinking and look down to see him still fully clothed. His hands too occupied to undress. 

  The bed dips as your husband comes into frame. His deft hands work at the ropes around your wrists and your tired arms collapse with a thud on the bed. 

  Santi discards his shirt and finds a comfortable spot next to you as Frankie leans in kissing you soft and sweet. He can taste the remnants of you and Santi as he bites your bottom lip. “You’re doing so good, baby.” 

  Doing…present tense. 

  “We’re not quite done with you yet.” 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

Tagging a few who might be interested

@heareball @for-a-longlongtime @legendary-pink-dot @casa-boiardi @survivingandenduring @ghostslillady @romanarose

[naazaif327]

The hilarious thing to me about the table being mad at Ivy for being mean to Mazey at the party is that outside of her being rage-goded by Porter at that point, Fabian was ALSO mean to Mazey and he wasn’t rage-goded, same as when he was mean to Gertie lolllll, like Fabian is my favourite because he’s a mean girl but it’s just so so funny how much the bad kids hated the rat grinders (before knowing about the rage conspiracy) when they’ve absolutely been that mean too

[narrators-journal]

Akeshu's relationship

These are just some very quick, ramble-y headcanons on Akeshu. I don’t think of them that much, they aren’t a high favorite on the list of ships I like in persona, but their dynamic is just, so much fun. I had to get out my random little thoughts about them.

Akeshu are a violent pair when it comes to romance.

However, despite the violence, they thoroughly understand one another. From the flaws to the strengths.

When it comes to sex especially, they argue and fight over who tops who. It’s basically a regular winner-takes-top sort of thing.

These two are very willing to bite and punch each other since they both can take it.

Akechi and Akira are very in love, I promise.

That being said, as a pair, it could be argued, that they also make each other worse to some extent.

On Akechi’s side, Akira both reins in his violent tendency and anger, but also sort of jabs into it and antagonizes that wrath.

This is because Akira enjoys the danger, and feels that it keeps him on his toes if Akechi is still aggressive.

It also helps him feel less like a failure of a wildcard if Akechi’s at least a worse person.

For Akechi, he enjoys feeding into Akira’s pride and the wrath that he harbors as well.

They bond over a shared sense of rage at the world, and both very much enjoy that rage in eachother.

Though, unlike Akira, Akechi doesn’t just enjoy his anger, but his pride.

Because I wholely believe Akira has a strong, almost toxic sense of pride. Not only in his abilities as a thief, but in his strength as a wildcard. It’s a bit of a fatal flaw for him, since it keeps him from asking for help for fear of losing his status and mystique as Joker or being seen as weak.

Akechi loves when he can stab into Akira’s ego and see his perfect rival stoop to his level. Plus, it keeps Akira in check.

Akechi is the only person who can really do that, since he’s one of, if not the only, person who can counter and take any blow ups Akira has.

Though, he will also feed his ego, to ensure that noxious flaw stays put lol.

All in all, Akira and Akechi are a conflicting couple.

On one hand, they fight and argue and dig into eachother’s insecurities and weaknesses for their own enjoyment.

But on the other, they understand each other, they know they can trust eachother and how far that will go. They also push one another to be stronger, and, for Akira, to accept the parts of themselves they might not be that happy with.

They somehow manage to be toxic, yet fairly wholesome too.

One might not hesitate to stick a nail in another’s insecurity, but they’re also very willing to comfort a wounded pride or boost their partner up.

That being said, cards on the table, I don’t recommend their dynamic.

Yes, they understand and love eachother despite their issues, but Akira will also mock Akechi to gode him into a fight when he’s horny. They’re undeniably horrible.

It’s just that they’re better off together than not.